Commonplace

seeking the story in the ordinary

…the quiet of stealing hours from the night

…of the early morning hours, when you wake, before sun, before sound

…pierced only by the click-clack of keys that, for now, are typing the most dreadful first draft

…of what might, one day, be a book…with a binding…that bears your name

…the silent stir of your spoon in the coffee as you strain to keep it from clinking

…the quiet in the weeks and months that stretch out after “submit”

…while you await a response

…or receive a pass

…the whispering echo of your own self-doubt

…the quiet resignation of seeing each rejection as evidence of an attempt, as proof of a willingness to try, to fail

…the quiet here, as I write elsewhere

…of words sitting still on a page, written but unread

…the quiet of remembering when

…of conjuring conversations where you speak both sides, without saying a word

…the quiet loneliness of few friends in a temporary town, a waypoint where we will not stay

…the comforting company of questions unasked

…of a secret, carefully kept

…of friendships formed only in the ether, by messages sent through silenced phones

…the quiet of staying in, missing out

…of staring into old photographs

…of sharing silent space with someone you love

…of a rural landscape, left behind

…the quiet of arriving first at a room that will soon be filled

…of sitting in solitude on an evening train into the city, watching out the window as the sky yellows, then pinks, then settles into a deep navy

…the quiet at the slow outset of a song at a concert of an old friend

…on a familiar stretch of a city where you once lived

…of walking its streets to find that storefronts haven’t stayed the same, that nothing does, that nothing will

…the quiet of a bed in a room of your own

…of him working late and long into the night

…of a light left on

…of sleeping alone

…of the tick-tick of time, of a life fading from present to past while your sights are set on simply getting through the day

…the quiet of sliding calloused feet between cold, clean sheets, of pulling the comforter up to your chin

…as you sigh, quietly

unnamed-10

Advertisements

28 thoughts on “Quiet

  1. I have always leaned towards quiet, and as I get older this tendency grows more marked. Love this. xox

    1. And I’ve only recently come to crave it and understand its true value. It wasn’t something I sought out as a child or even a young adult…thank you, always. xo

  2. acb23 says:

    The power of quiet… really loved this.

  3. Dana says:

    Oh, such lovely words here Dina. I hope we both have that book with our names on it someday…

    1. oh YES. i love that thought…xox

  4. SJH says:

    Beautiful, Dina. I love this. And I really appreciate the quiet, too, especially during times when it’s rare. Always looking to find a balance between the quiet and the noisy, chaotic. Without both, we wouldn’t appreciate either.

    1. Well said–it’s so true. It may be part of why I seek it out so much lately, because it’s such a scarcity. Love you…

  5. bam says:

    you are soo soo beautiful. i hear my own soul whispering in each of your sentences. it is the rarest of gifts to discover that the slow quiet careful attention you’ve paid all your life, all your writing days, is not only yours, is shared, is known beyond you. and so the walls of aloneness tumble down, and there is communion in the quiet. in the aching longing quiet…..a quiet tender hug from my quiet to yours. and, by the way, i can’t wait to read that book with your name on it….xoxox

    1. “…the slow quiet careful attention you’ve paid all your life, all your writing days, is not only yours, is shared, is known beyond you. and so the walls of aloneness tumble down, and there is communion in the quiet.” Your words are such a gift, like poetry, sent from afar to settle deep within me and stay there for all time…when I write, and when I read you, yes, I feel like we are sitting in a shared quiet, a space where we come together across distance and difference, to muddle through this life with one another softly by each other’s side. Thank you, dear Barbara, for your precious quiet companionship.

  6. Absolutely gorgeous. And indulgently delicious.

    1. Thank you, dear Christie! xo

  7. rudrip says:

    Beautiful, Dina. I adore the quiet and love the way you gave this subject a shape. Thank you.

    1. Thank *you* dear Rudri. What a lovely way to put it. xox

  8. Nina Badzin says:

    Gorgeous. And yes.

    1. Thank you, Nina. xox

  9. I really love this one. I often forget that it’s ok to just appreciate the quiet times and aloneness instead of always trying to find ways to fill it… I can’t wait to read your book!!

    1. Aw, thanks Timna. And YES, that is something I’ve only recently come to learn, but more and more I recognize the value of stillness and quiet solitude in their own right. And you are too kind to express interest in my book–I assure you, it will be years, if ever, before it sees the light of day! But your encouragement means quite a lot. Thanks so much for reading–I hope to see you soon! xo

  10. Lara says:

    Oh how I’ve missed your words that always, always echo those in my heart. Yes, yes, yes. Here’s to hoping we’re both granted the necessary cave time to nurture our books into the world. xoxo

    1. Oh yes to that. Even when I’m not reading you, I’m thinking of you out there…with you in all of this. xox

  11. Tricia says:

    Oh yes our words are speaking to each other this week. And this week found us both in our places at the same time which feels like serendipity to me. Love these words. I know many of these quiets and even the anxiety-ridden ones have a certain peace.

    1. Love our synchronicity! And yes, so well put–each quiet has its place. Happy to be back here, with you. xox

  12. I love this. I have always needed (craved) quiet but rarely have it. This is a gorgeous string of moments that beautifully explain the difference between ‘silence’ and ‘quiet’. Not sure that’s what you mean to do, but it’s how I read it.

    1. Meant to do, rather. Oy.

    2. Oh I love that take! It was not intentional, but what a thoughtful way to look at it. Thank you, always, for reading, and here’s to both of us getting a bit of quiet! xox

This is your place, too...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Jena Schwartz

Fierce Encouragement for Writing + Life

Motherwell

Telling all sides of the parenting story

writing at the table

writer & mother, feeding my dream and my family

Do You Read Me? - Carisa Miller

seeking the story in the ordinary

Defining Motherhood

One mom's search for meaning in the madness.

Lemon Shark

Navigating the Uncharted Waters of Life

pull up a chair

where wisdom gathers, poetry unfolds and divine light is sparked...

My Words Go Here

read. write. muse.

Love That Max

seeking the story in the ordinary

Dani Shapiro

seeking the story in the ordinary

Nourished Mom

seeking the story in the ordinary

These Little Waves

seeking the story in the ordinary

Motherese

cultural commentary and musings on modern motherhood

Nina Badzin's Blog

Writing, Reading, Parenting & More

Evelyn A. Lauer

seeking the story in the ordinary

About 100%

seeking the story in the ordinary

Mama One to Three

New York City mama of one. Then three. Give me coffee or give me wine.

Joy, Lovely Joy

Writing through mothering

allisonslatertate

Smile! You’re at the best WordPress.com site ever

Cattywampus - The Blog of Devon Corneal

A Slightly Askew Take on Life

My Jenn-eration

seeking the story in the ordinary

Mama By The Bay

Living on the edge of the Left Coast, parenting a little left of center.

omnimom

the philosophy of parenting, not a parenting philosophy

%d bloggers like this: